


Harvest Moon

by farad



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 16:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8452756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: For Boogie's Halloween Challenge - late, of course.  In response to the prompt "Any; Any; Indian (Native American) burial grounds and Indian ghosts."





	

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes my own.

The moon was so bright that it was almost blinding. Even now, well after midnight, it still rode high in the night sky, casting long shadows that were made all the darker in contrast to the reflection of the moonlight in the white sand.

 

It was a relief, in a way. It had been a long time since he'd found himself comforted by this brightness at night. Since he'd stood under the Hunter's Moon and appreciated how far he could see.

 

The squeak of the saloon's batwing doors caught his attention and he tensed – until he recognized the familiar thunk of boot heels on the boardwalk, the tinkle of well-oiled spurs fast and even, like a rattler's tail. It was a comfort, in a way, a relief. He'd been wondering who would come, and if he'd given himself permission to hope, he'd have picked Chris.

 

Chris came right up, as he usually did, the sound of his boots echoing even after he had come to stop close by. He smelled of horse and tobacco, shaving soap and whiskey. It was smell that meant safety and friendship.

 

Right now, it was more reassuring than he was used to.

 

“You all right?” Chris' voice was low and rough, as if he hadn't slept in a long while. Maybe he hadn't.

 

Vin shrugged. “We're alive. Seems like that should be a good day.” He looked up at the moon and grinned. “A good night, more like.”

 

Chris made a noise that could have been a laugh – but it was short. “Seems things got rough out there. What the hell happened?”

 

Vin drew a breath, wishing he'd been alone for the past two days. Wishing he didn't have to have try to explain this. “What they tell you?” he asked, still looking up at the moon.

 

Chris fished in his pocket for his cigarillos, taking one out and putting it between his lips. He pulled out a box of lucifers, studying the empty street as he fumbled to light one. The flare when it caught was pale in the moonlight, just another flash in a bigger fire. “Not sure,” he said around the cigarillo in his mouth. He brought the match to the end of it, drawing on it enough to make it catch in the tobacco. The smell of it was sweet, a reminder of his past life, of people who took him in because they wanted to, of a place that was more of a home than anywhere he'd ever been. Even here.

 

Chris blew out a stream of smoke then leaned up against the railing. “From what I can gather, there was trouble in Eagle Bend.” It was statement but it was also a question.

 

Vin sighed, shifting from one foot to the other. His back was hurting – it'd been a hell of a lot of riding over the past three days. “Only trouble in Eagle Bend was that we didn't get out of it 'til early afternoon. Which gave that gang time to get after us, thinking we had gold from the bank.”

 

Chris brought up one leg, bending deep at the knee to put the ball of his booted foot on the rail and leaning on it. He took the cigarillo out of his mouth and took a deep breath, and Vin sighed, knowing the question. It was one he had had to work out the answer to himself, but only as they were galloping down the road, riding hellbent for leather and trying to stay low of the damned bullets flying past.

 

So he spoke, leaving Chris to save his words for later. “Near as I can tell, some of them boys was playing cards with Ezra and some others was drinking with Buck. Ezra won big and said something in passing about us being in town to make a delivery and a pick up. Buck said something about spending time with the woman bank teller, and once the talk got started, the gang decided we were moving money.”

 

Chris blew out another stream of smoke, this one with more force. His coat swayed as he pressed forward against his bent leg and then pulled back. “And Buck and Ezra were not ready to move at first light.” It wasn't a question so Vin didn't answer it.

 

Instead, he thought about the brightness of the moon and the first time he'd been told about the night time hunts, the raiding parties that only went out when the moon was full and bright like this– and the shadows were all the more dark.

 

Hunting was easier under this moon, as the men of his tribe had taught him. But that worked for both the prey in the light – and the hunters who knew how to hide in those deep shadows. And sometimes, it was easy to confuse which was which.

 

Except for the Hunters who only came out when those deep shadows were black enough to hide them.

 

“So they followed you,” Chris said after time, his voice low. “When did you know they were there?”

 

Vin frowned and turned to look at Chris, not sure what he was asking. “Big horses ain't quiet,” he said after a time. “Ain't like Indian ponies walking on grass, wearing blankets and ropes instead of jangling metal leather contraptions.” He knew his tone was sharp – he was tired, and this seemed like something Chris, of all people, would know. Hell, Chris wore spurs because of their jangly bits, to announce himself.

 

Chris leaned forward, and in the clear light of the moon, Vin saw the fabric of his pants stretch tight over his thigh. “Yeah I figured, I just had to be sure. The stories – well, I can't tell what's real, what's likely, and what's -” He stopped, drawing a breath and looking up to the moon.

 

“What sounds like they're talking out of the bottle?” Vin asked, his voice quiet.

 

Chris didn't answer, not right away. Instead, he pushed back then pressed forward again, as if he had a cramp in his leg he needed to to work out.

 

Vin knew this routine – Chris was given to stretching his legs this way before a long ride – and after one. He knew that Chris was thinking. Trying to figure an explanation that made sense.

 

Vin also knew there wasn't one. He knew what had happened because he had set it up. Counted on it.

 

And it had saved their lives, as he had planned. But explaining it . . .

 

He sighed and looked back up at the moon.

 

And as if understanding what he wanted, the moon seemed to smile just as the words came to him.

 

They could have been the words of someone else – hell, they probably were since Vin knew that he'd never said half of them before. He understood that the spirits were speaking through him – for him – and as scary as it was, he knew it was a gift, a sign that he was tied to them.

 

“They saw what they saw. They can try to pretend otherwise, but they saw what happens when the sacred places are violated, when those who protect the dead are called.” He drew a breath, feeling the words that had to come next, the ritual. “The land is sacred. Those who trespass face the judgment of the ones who reside there forever. They have earned their power and their right to punish.”

 

Beside him, Chris shifted, drawing a deep breath. He pushed back and dropped his leg so that he was once more standing on two feet. “You're telling me that they did see ghosts.” His voice was even but Vin heard the edge in his tone.

 

He still looked up at the moon, letting the words come to him, flow through him. “They saw what they saw. The land protects itself.”

 

Vin knew when Chris turned and looked at him, and he suspected that his friend's face was lined with worry and irritation. Chris wasn't one to believe in things that didn't make sense - and spirits didn't make sense. After a time, Chris spoke again, his words low and clipped. “Then how the hell did you and the others get back?”

 

Vin blinked, feeling the tug of the moon lessen. This was his to answer. He straightened, looking down to stretch his neck before turning to Chris. “They let us,” he said simply.

 

Chris glared, the gold flecks in his green eyes catching in the brightness. “They let you,” he repeated, saying each word slowly, as if he had to get his mouth to work. “They left you three alone, let you ride onto sacred land, and took the others because – they're friendly ghosts like that?”

 

Vin looked away and shrugged. “What's it matter? You don't believe it anyway.”

 

Chris snorted but didn't say anything.

 

For a time, they stood in silence, Chris blowing smoke and shaking his head, until the cigarillo was down to nothing but an orange tip. Chris tossed it into the dirt road and turned. But instead of walking away, he leaned back against the railing and stared into the shadows of the boardwalk. His voice was even lower when he spoke, his words coarse and grating, as he they were scraping against gravel on their way up his throat. “Buck says that it sounded like they were being ripped apart – he'd know; we served together in the War, had our share of battlefield combat. Ezra said he saw blood – or what he thought was blood. A lot of it. All over the place. He also says that your . . . ghosts were solid enough to carry knives, long ones. And that they had teeth. Fangs.”

 

Vin didn't move, didn't look at Chris. “Don't know,” he said evenly. “I've never seen 'em. We were told never to look back. So I don't.”

 

“You don't,” Chris echoed. “So you've done this before.”

 

Vin shrugged again. “I've been in desperate situations before. Been riding alone for years. You know same as me, sometimes you got to do what you got to do.”

 

He felt Chris' eyes on him, felt the doubt and the anger.

 

But they'd been friends for a long time now, and Chris had come to trust him. Even when he didn't always understand.

 

“I'm gonna ride out there tomorrow,” Chris said. “See what I see.”

 

Vin nodded. He'd expected no less. “Reckon you want me to ride along.”

 

Chris was silent again, the weight of his stare heavy on Vin. But Vin let him reason it through. After a time, Chris sighed. “Guess you're gonna have to. Ezra and Buck say they ain't going no where near that place again.”

 

Vin nodded, not smiling. But it was a near thing. “Dawn be along soon. Best to go as soon as the sun's up.”

 

“Yeah,” Chris agreed, pushing off the rail. He didn't say anything else – no need to. They'd meet at the livery soon as it got light, and Vin would take him back to the sacred lands, to where the bandits had attacked them.

 

But Chris didn't step away, not yet. He was still looking at Vin. “If this is sacred land, how are we gonna set foot on it?”

 

Vin did turn then, looking at Chris. Meeting his gaze. The desire to tell him, to answer the question with the truth, was so strong that he opened his mouth. But the light of the moon grew, bright enough to blind even without looking at it, and his tongue was no longer his own. “We'll be safe enough, as our intentions are good,” Vin heard himself say. “ But they won't be on it.”

 

Chris glared again, then he turned and walked away, his spurs loud and angry in his wake.

 

Vin watched him go, frozen for a time until the brightness faded. He looked back up to it, nodding.

 

He hadn't wanted to make this run tonight, not with Ezra and Buck. But the Hunter's Moon was a rare thing, and he had been given the honor of feeding it – of feeding them. There was no way to get out of the trip to Eagle Bend – and truth be told, the idea of how to do it had come to him once he'd realized his advantage.

 

He'd needed Buck and Ezra to lay the trap, to draw the gang after them.

 

Though he'd taken the precaution of paying for his drinks with a gold coin last night, dropping it on the bar right beside the man he knew to be the gang's leader.

 

He'd had no choice but to wait for Ezra and Buck – if they split up, there was no way to know who the gang would follow. And it'd do no good if they didn't follow him.

 

So now, Buck and Ezra knew – though, being the reasonable white men they were, they'd come to deny it. And it would help that there would be no bodies, no blood – nothing for Chris to find.

 

Nothing for anyone to find.

 

He closed his eyes, letting the warm light heat him. The Hunters were protectors, of the sacred places, of the tribe. They didn't ask for much – just to be honored and to be fed.

 

Vin would do that, for as long as he could.

 

Tonight had proven something else, too, something that he had hoped for but hadn't been sure about: the Hunters still honored his tribe – the people who he counted as family. Even though they were no longer close to hand, the Hunters remembered.

 

It was a good thing to know.

 

If they hadn't, he would not have come back. He could not have.

 

He swallowed and lowered his head. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, very long, but it was hard to pull himself away from the light. So he stood, thanking the moon and the Hunters, and hoping he would not have to use his friends like this again.

 


End file.
